


Misfortune's Blessing

by Mercurial_Crow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Background Relationships, Child Neglect, Dark, Familiars, Female Friendship, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Guilt, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Original Character(s), Not Canon Compliant, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurial_Crow/pseuds/Mercurial_Crow
Summary: Elisabeth Rosalie Potter was raised by her grandfather, Henry Evans, faced with opportunities that many didn't have, yet, always craving for acknowledgement and talent she could call her own. She grew up unaware of a world which her parents grew up in and the destiny that would come chasing her, sooner or later.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Mr Evans & Harry Potter, Mr Evans/Mrs Evans (Harry Potter)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 60
Collections: Creative Chaos Discord Recs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is in the works, this first chapter is just to give a preview of Elise's life growing up. If there are any tags I should add please let me know. There's a lot that's changed in the background of this story, but hopefully, some things remain familiar. I've labelled it as dark, but it might be pretty tame. Thanks! Hopefully (!) there shouldn't be any character bashing, more tags will be added as the story goes along.
> 
> Also, the first chapter is just snippets (so not chronological!).

The weekend started off as most weekends did.

She woke up, got dressed, brushed her teeth, braided her hair and crept downstairs into the kitchen to start preparing breakfast.

There was a quiet lull in the house as her guardian slept, the only sounds in the kitchen being the steady thumps of knife hitting the cutting board. Rhythmic chopping of a variety of vegetables, each placed with care on a small plate, as the eggs were being boiled. The girl moved with an ease that came from experience, taking out two plates, and glasses, two knives, and a fork arranging them on top of the wooden table in the dining room. She went back and forth, taking out the bread in a small basket, the vegetables pre-sliced, the condiments pre-portioned out all whilst the kettle was slowly boiling in the background.

It was at this point that she could hear the tell-tale ringing from a bedroom upstairs, a grumbled complaint and heavy footsteps. Quickly turning on her heel, she retreated into the kitchen and took out two plain mugs, placing in two teabags, topping them both off with boiling water and adding a smidgen of honey and lemon to one. As she re-entered, mugs clinking against the table, she saw the elderly man slide into the chair, his knees letting out an audible crack as he rubbed his neck in exhaustion, a small plastic box near his plate opened up to reveal the multi-coloured pills in each compartment.

“G’morning, Petal.”

The girl paused as if to take in the greeting, before awkwardly smiling at the man.

“Morning, Papa.”

The man flinched and looked up at the girl, this time eyes finally looking at _her_ , sleep slowly creeping away and a quick grimace flickering over his face. He nodded, took out three pills, poured himself a glass of water and drank, clutching on to the vessel with all the strength left in him. The girl’s smile left just as quickly, and she quietly made herself a simple sandwich of bread and butter, cucumber and tomato.

The tense silence, accompanied by the scraping of a knife against bread, or fork against a plate, was interrupted by the sound of something slipping through the mailbox. She hastily slid out of her seat, eager to depart for the moment and looked through the mail.

Bills, adverts, newspaper.

Nothing new. She sighed, and slipped back into the kitchen, bills on the counter to peruse later, the adverts straight into the bin and retreating back into the dining room, the newspaper was placed beside him. After finishing off her breakfast, she took her plate to the sink, the untouched breakfast items quickly put into the fridge.

She heard him before she saw him, already drying off her plate, back turned to him as she stood on the small step provided for her.

“I’m sorry, Elise.”

“It’s okay,” The girl tried to grin at the plate, but her shoulders were slumped. “I’m sorry too.”

She placed the dry plate on the counter, slipping off the step and reaching him easily, wrapping her small arms around his middle and urging him to hug her back, all the whilst offering words of comfort. He shuddered under her grip and stroked her hair in gentle and even motions, face turned to look at her but eyes a million miles away.

They stayed like that for a minute, maybe 5, and clung to each other like they were the last people on Earth before they each took a step back and he finally noticed the bruise on her forearm, faded, and covered with sudsy water. Their eyes met, both filled with horror for two starkly different reasons, and he turned to climb the stairs swiftly, as she stood in the kitchen like a doe caught in headlights.

A violent shudder took over her body and finally unfroze her when she heard the bang of the door upstairs and the tormented sobbing of her grandfather. She glared at her arm, before resignedly turning to the kitchen and cleaning up the leftovers, closing the pillbox with care, mentally keeping track of when the next refill would be needed.

_The weekend started off as most weekends did._

* * *

Elise wasn’t the best student in her primary school.

The hard subjects – the maths, the sciences, the geography and the history?

They evaded her mind, she could do the simpler aspects, sure, she could add and subtract, but the bigger numbers were harder. There were too few ways to get something right, a very black and white manner to the lessons that didn’t appeal to her at all; the subject matter often fading out of memory because of a lack of interest.

Still, she was a logical girl, some of her teachers in conversations with her grandfather spoke about how she was “mature” for her age, although sometimes “too quiet”, rarely raised her hand and didn’t ask for help.

_She knew better than to ask for help._

And despite not being the best, she certainly wasn’t the worst and Elise was well aware she was fortunate with her education. The private school her grandfather sent her to was one of the best in the county. If not the country. Often, when she was alone during lunch hours with a textbook in hand, she’d remember the words she overheard her grandfather once speak.

“Blessed through misfortune.”

So, Elise tried her best to make up for the fact, to try and earn the praise of her ever-watchful guardian. She maintained average grades, with some effort, in her school, and exceeded others in their lessons in French and Latin. Music, too, was one of her greater strengths.

But it was never enough.

Sure, she mastered French in less than a year, and Latin she had the basics down in two, but that was easily attributed to her grandfather’s and late grandmother’s efforts, who raised her like they raised their daughters, French in a British household. Latin, was harder, but her grandfather was well-versed and whenever he was able, aided her in her studies.

And music?

Music was different. She started singing before speaking; echoing songs of a familiar yet unknown voice who whispered in her dreams. Still, it didn’t please him. _Couldn’t._ There was something about the songs she learned, the songs she knew that made her grandfather break in front of her, even on good days, and she learned quickly that songs in the house weren’t allowed. At least, not if she wanted to see him smile at _her_.

She found a lucky break when she reached her 9th birthday and was allowed to take more extra-curricular after hours. A _fortunate_ case of average grades and her grandfather’s desire for solitude. She took up more of the creative arts, the ones that allowed her to explore more than the beaten path. She took up dancing, and sewing and cooking and flower arrangement…

Elise quickly dropped flower arrangement.

Dancing was _good_.

She wasn’t great, much as with everything else, her talents didn’t shine in that area, but the physical exhaustion helped her sleep better at night. Sometimes, she was too exhausted to dream of green lights, and crying women and the sound of sobbing, broken men and children.

Sewing was _fun_.

Especially embroidery, where she would weave in and out of fabric with a needle and thread to create images far prettier than ones made with pencil and paper. She crafted collections of handkerchiefs, embroidered many of her skirts and blouses, and even some of the tablecloths. It was an activity she enjoyed in the household that didn’t bring sharp reminders. Plus, it was useful for mending tattered socks or loose buttons.

Cooking was useful.

Elise learned more creative methods in the kitchen, and although she didn’t enjoy it, she found it important for the daily life at home, more spontaneity to the weekends of loneliness or days of happiness tinged with resignation. It brought a variety to the house from Italy to India, to an otherwise closed-off home.

And cooking was _hopeful_.

The first day she returned from her lessons there was a stack of old cookbooks, written by hand in her grandmother’s native tongue. Her grandfather was already locked in his room, and wouldn’t come downstairs so she spent the rest of that night tracing the gentle curls of the letters, the childish drawings in the more recent books and the little statement at the front of the newest of them all.

_Par Renée, Pétunia & Lilian Evans._

* * *

Elise was a unique child.

This wasn’t simply due to who raised her or how she was raised.

Nor was it because of where she was educated.

Sure, she had some quirks and habits that were uncommon, but if one knew her circumstances, as most adults in her life did, they weren’t particularly strange. Especially surrounded by kids from similar backgrounds. She wasn’t boisterous like most children, she was politer and certainly followed the rules set out by the school. The girl also rarely answered questions, unless asked directly, and it was even rarer for her to ask questions.

She had a habit of avoiding fairytales and fiction books unless they were assigned reading, but it wasn’t rare that a guardian looked down on such novels as being childish or filling their kid’s heads with nonsense.

No, what made her different was the strange occurrences that happened around her.

For a start, most children in the school behaved peculiarly, avoided her almost as if she was a cat amongst a horde of mice.

Still, there didn’t seem to be a reason why. Elise never bullied anyone, nor was there any “incidents” that occurred to those who interacted with her, be it because of a project or simply being assigned in the same group for Physical Education. The children didn’t seem to notice either, as whenever they were put into groups, they treated her politely, friendly for the most part, and the girl treated them the same.

After a while, they simply dismissed this as, the children understanding that Elise was more introverted, or that Elise never truly made an effort to make friends and it was simply a fact on the playground. It didn’t really matter so long as no-one was hurt.

Another somewhat unique thing about Elise was her playground habits. She didn’t play much, mostly stuck in textbooks to keep her grades up, but there were moments where she would practice embroidery inside on rainy days or take a break and sing, in the little corner that was undoubtedly hers. This wasn’t peculiar, except for the _attention_ she would attract, often a bird or two perching on a nearby fence gate or tree branch, a squirrel sometimes showing up and relaxing in the tree until she finished.

It wasn’t anything big, but it was a regular enough occurrence that it was picked up by the teachers, leading to a joke in the staffroom that they had their own “Snow White” amongst the children.

And then there were the downright strange things that would occur, in the privacy of her home.

At first, it was the things that one could try and dismiss for happenstance, that always occurred when Elise was overwhelmed by emotion. A flickering of the lights, a sudden crack in an old mirror, a brief power surge in their neighbourhood, all in sync with her fear, her pain, her anger and her dreams.

But much like one could explain this as a coincidence there was also the Cat Incident.

* * *

She was 6 when it happened for the first time.

Tired of being the one to take care of people, tired of dreams that haunted her sleep, tired of being alone.

Just _tired_ in a way no child should be.

At this age, she often spent her time outside in the garden, bird watching or trying to nap under the solitary apple tree that stood a stalwart companion in the otherwise neglected space.

Her grandmother loved to garden. She would tend to the flowers and see it blossom in a rainbow of colours, bright purple petunias, pink and yellow roses and the occasional lily. Autumn brought many gifts, with fresh tomatoes and bright red strawberries, perfect for a pie.

At least, that’s what Elise was told, as her grandmother faded in front of her, watching the garden with mournful eyes.

 _Still_ , the grass was a lush carpet beneath bare feet and the wildlife loved to frequent the space in search of a morsel of food, a fallen apple, or to attack the berry bushes that required little attention and often were heavy with fruit.

It was also far enough away from her grandfather’s room that she could freely sing and dance, do what she imagined all little girls her age loved to do. She’d hum a song she heard a motherly voice sing, echo the words her grandmother taught her, and pretend the tree was her faithful dance partner, dancing around it in childish steps.

Sometimes, her neighbour’s cats would visit, much to her joy, and allow themselves to be petted and loved in her lap, her hands sinking in the silky fur and eliciting deep purrs of joy. Her favourite was a grumpy tomcat, who had a permanent scowl on his face and would yowl in chagrin at her, but always end up in her lap without her asking, butting his head against her hands until she would scratch his ears.

She hadn’t seen him, for a couple of weeks at this point, a worry hidden in the depths of her mind and the reminder of _mournful eyes_ and _green lights_ , coming intrusively whenever she thought of him.

So she stopped thinking of him.

At least, until he came back into her garden, and crept into her lap, the silvery strands around his face grown in number, his breath haggard and a reminder to her that he was _old_. Especially old for a cat. 

And for once, he didn’t yowl, and his face was too tired to glare at anything, eyes half-closed, a weary purr coming from his body.

He curled up under her hand and she watched with too tired eyes for a child, palms sinking in the soft fur and rubbing circles around his cheeks, scratching softly behind his ears and rubbing gently along his tired spine, humming a tune that only he would feel, his hearing already gone.

It was around lunchtime when It happened, and if it wasn’t for that fact, the only witnesses would have been the wildlife that loved to gather in their garden and her silent dance partner.

Instead, her grandfather joined the audience, there to remind her to eat.

Elise watched blankly as the tomcat stirred for one last time, lifting his head to rub against her hand, and she watched passively, with a quiet horror in the far corner of her mind as her fingers blackened at the tips and his breath turned frosty in the mild January weather before he slumped in her lap, left in a slumber that he would never wake up from again.

She turned her head, finally noticing her grandfather and they both watched, she with curious, detached sadness and he with a knowing fear as the blackened palm slowly receded to a shade of flush pink that tinged her fingers, reminding her the days of forgotten gloves and fresh snow.

She stood up and lifted the cat, surprisingly stiff and still curled up as if he were simply sleeping, as her grandfather walked up briskly and told her to go wash her hands.

There was a silent agreement to never speak about that day, but Elise remembered the day of frosty breath and blackened hands, much like she would later remember how cold her hands felt when her grandmother passed.


	2. Chapter 2

The weekend started off as most weekends did.

She got out of bed, bleary-eyed and still exhausted from a night of restless sleep, stretching herself out towards the sky as she rolled out of it. Bare feet brushed against plush, grey carpet before the girl donned a pair of pale blue slippers and headed towards the closet, snatching up her leather glasses case as she did so.

Elise took out a simple black skirt, warm cotton tights and a dark burgundy sweater over a white blouse which she quickly slipped into, leisurely heading over to her window, raising the grey curtains to look outside towards the gnarled, welcoming branches of her apple tree. The skies were equally grey, dotted with dark clouds that pointed towards another day of rain as the season moved further into summer. Opening the window slightly to air out her room, a distinct chill crept into the room, and she tugged her sweater sleeves further down her palms until only her fingers peeked out of the fabric.

It wasn't unusual for at least one period during summer to be filled with rain, and the whispers of storms on the coasts certainly added to the increased rainfall. Still, whilst she preferred the chill and rain over the sweltering summer months, it's felt like a while since the sun was last out.

Breathing in some of the fresh air, Elise took a gander at the wildlife still inhabiting the tree, the lush green leaves providing some shelter from the rain, making it a popular roost in times like these.

_Three crows, a magpie, an owl, a pair of starlings…_

"An owl?" Elise looked towards the simple clock decorating her grey wall, the mechanical ticking a constant companion, the arrows neatly pointing towards 10:10 a.m., or close enough to 10 minutes past. Certainly not the time she'd expect an owl to be awake at. She turned back in time to notice the subject of her current attentions stare back at her, a soft hoot coming from its beak as if to respond. Her lips twitched in childish amusement as she waved at it before sliding off the blanket covered windowsill she used for reading. _Curious_ , but nothing she could nor wanted to do about it. Instead, she turned her back to the bird in question and walked towards her bathroom.

There she picked up the toothbrush, noting that she'd have to ask for a new one soon, and applied a pea-sized amount of sharp peppermint toothpaste on the bristles, the gestures at this point instinctual, brushing back and forth across the surface of her teeth. She stared mindlessly at her reflection, noting the small splatters of water that she would need to clean up soon and started to review the tasks she had for today.

_Make breakfast, check the post, clean the living room, clean her room, do the laundry, do her homework, put the finishing touches on her project, make dinner._

_Sleep._

The last thought made her nose wrinkle, before she sighed and poured some tap water into a porcelain mug, took a sip, gurgled and spat into the sink, draining it with some leftover water in the mug, before repeating the ritual with a swig of mouthwash. Undoing the two plaits of dark hair, she reached over to the mirror where a wooden paddle brush was sat, and quickly worked through the wavy strands removing any knots and tangles that may have formed overnight, before she braided her hair back into a solitary braid tied with a dark green ribbon, fringe neatly covering her forehead. Elise looked at her reflection and grinned, eyes analysing the expression before nodding and tiredly dropping it.

_Good enough._

Exiting the bathroom, she headed down into the kitchen on quiet footsteps, the stairs barely creaking as she reached the bottom floor and walked towards the chalkboard, taking quick note of today's meal plan. Opening the fridge, she set out the eggs and milk, and, upon closing it, manoeuvred around the kitchen to collect the rest of her equipment, the flour and sugar finding its way onto the kitchen counter. Easily enough, she whisked up a quick batter for crêpes and moved to take out the cutlery and plates whilst it rested.

Plates and cutlery were set up on the dining table and soon enough she heard the thrum of the boiler turning on as her grandfather started to get ready for the day. As soon as she heard the click, she returned to the kitchen and started to boil the water in the kettle for tea, placing a teabag in each mug. _Green tea_. She took out a lemon from the fridge and cut four thin slices, adding them to the mugs, before replacing the lemon back in the fridge and taking out a container of fresh summer fruits alongside a plain yoghurt that she poured into a small bowl.

Elise took the batter and started to pour it into the pan, stacking a plate of crêpes as her grandfather finished his shower. Once done with that, she quickly set out the table with the breakfast items, followed by the jug of cranberry juice. Upon returning to the kitchen to take out the mugs, she heard the tell-tale screech of chair against floorboards, and the quiet shuffling as a jug was lifted up.

As she brought in the two mugs of steaming tea into the dining room, she placed one in front of her plate before placing the other by her grandfather, on his left side. She noticed that the glass was already filled, his pillbox open and the jug back in its spot.

_One, two, three, four, five._

Turning her eyes away from the pills, she moved back into her seat, filling her plate with some crêpes and a dollop of plain yoghurt, a smattering of strawberries and blueberries on the side.

"Morning, Spitfire."

He was tired, _it's fine._ Still, she cringed at the words before a smile touched her lips, practised and easy, just like brushing her teeth.

"Morning, Papa."

Her smile tensed slightly as she saw him flinch, the movement actually shaking the chair. She _didn't_ take any joy from it, nor did she _enjoy_ the way his tired eyes grew alert, the way he refocused and sat up straighter. The _look_ in his eyes as he finally saw _her_ and not the shades that consumed his mind on the daily. There wasn't _any_ sense of pleasure when he sent her that _familiar_ apologetic look, so familiar to her in the same way her pinkie was familiar to her hand. Instead, she relaxed her smile, an easy grin replacing it as she motioned towards his plate. _Eat_. A simple movement, equally common, especially nowadays.

Elise didn't have to say much these days. She glanced up at his face, finishing her plate as she did so, eyes sliding over his red-tinged ears. Sighing, her own ears perked up to the sound of mail sliding in through the front door, the quiet _thud_ of the newspaper hitting the floorboards in the main hallway. She stood up, pushing her chair back, wandering over to her grandfather and kissing his cheek in a silent acceptance, her plate in hand.

"Mail."

Turning around, she headed into the kitchen, put the plate into the sink alongside the cutlery, before stepping into the hallway and looking over the pile of envelopes.

_Newspaper, adverts, bills, letters._

Letters?

Elise looked over the letters, intrigued by the presence of unexpected mail. One was to her grandfather, as all unexpected post tended to be, the clearly printed name of Henry Evans in black and white on the paper envelope. Turning it over she noted with a sense of resignation that the return address was for St. Agnes' Hospital, it was thicker than their usual updates about his check-ups. _He's keeping something from me again._ Slipping the envelope towards the back, she observed the other letter, clearly addressed to her directly. Or at least an E. Potter who lived under the exact same address.

Stepping into the kitchen and throwing out the adverts, she surveyed the letter. It was made of thicker material, for one. Parchment, maybe? Question was, from _whom_. School letters were usually printed with the familiar line of "Parent/Guardian of Elisabeth Potter" and it wasn't like she had any penpals. Her finger traced the cursive lettering on the parchment, the fine quality dark green ink shimmering slightly as if it had glitter added.

_Ms. E. Potter,_

_The Grey Room,_

_4 Privet Drive,_

_Little Whining,_

_Surrey._

Hesitating slightly, she took out a small sharp knife from under the counter and turned the envelope over, placing the rest of the mail to the side. There was a bright red wax seal on the back, that she could barely make out the details of even with glasses. There were some animals, a snake and a bird of some kind. A bear and a cat, maybe? _Probably a lion._ The bottom of the crest was indecipherable but the top clearly spelt out “ _Hogwarts_ ”.

Elise paused. She didn’t know any place by the name but the quality of the stationary suggested it was from somewhere important.

Or at least, a place that held itself to be important, which honestly was half the work done.

She briefly entertained the notion that she received a scholarship, but it wasn’t like she was exceptional in any way, nor was this the name of her private school which was where she was planning to continue her secondary education. Fingers toyed with the edge of the parchment before flipping it over, noticing that there were several pieces of heavyweight paper inside. Surprisingly the size of the envelope was deceptive, its contents seemingly outnumbering the thin width it presented.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July, an owl will be awaiting your response outside your residence for the period of time.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

* * *

Elise didn’t know how long she stood there, mouthing the words on the parchment. _Witchcraft and Wizardry?_ She wanted to laugh; an incredulous, hearty laugh at a joke well played but…her mind turned back to flickering flames and frosty breath. Of nights waking up in cold sweat and knocks on the door from neighbours. Of summer days and heady warmth and freezing hands. _Of bird’s eyes and night skies and a man with soft hands._

She toyed with the letter, barely noticing as he walked into the kitchen, plate in hand and curious gaze. Yet the girl still perceived out of the corner of her eye as he looked towards the newspaper, at his own letter sitting prominently on top, the way his face turned that familiar flushed embarrassed red and how his posture took that guilty stance.

Like a child caught in a cookie jar, she heard that expression before.

“I’m sorry.”

_He always was._

Thoughts rose up of red hands and stormy nights and sobbing men before they were quietly dismissed because she loved him and she _knew_ him, and she _forgave_ him. _She would always forgive him_. Ignoring the bitter taste left on her tongue, _green tea brewed too long_ , she instead nodded.

“I’ve also got a letter.”

There was a slight urge to laugh at how easy he was to read, the way he shivered and looked to the calendar, that look of betrayal and anger and _fear_. He wasn’t surprised, and somehow that didn’t shock her. She placed the letter on the counter and watched as he was torn between apologies and hatred, more familiar to her than guilt or their happiness.

The girl followed him quietly as he retreated to the living room, watching detached as he paced around the room, muttering under his breath, his hands in tight fists, her eyes tracking them in a habit she couldn’t quite yet let go of. Elise couldn’t make out most of the words, but some were repeated often enough that she could understand most of his complaints.

‘ _Again’_ , and ‘ _Lily’_ and ‘ _Bastards’_ and ‘ _Take’_.

She wondered if she should’ve cried more when she was younger, maybe then she'd be able to express the hopeless despair moments like these made her feel. _He wasn’t angry that they extended an invitation to her._

Elise let him pace around the room, knowing better by now, older that she was, that it wasn’t the wisest idea to interrupt him when he was seeing red. _He was screaming and needed her help_. She bit her lip and observed silently as he finally collapsed on the couch and sobbed, crying the name of his _daughters_. His _wife_. Never _hers_.

There was a warmth in her belly. A heady, feverish warmth that grumbled warningly before she smothered it with _nights of a man, sobbing in bed. Nights of a man locked in rooms she was never allowed in_. Blinking harshly, she quietly retreated to check the rest of the letter, sure enough, that he’d come back to her in a few minutes or a couple of hours, _apologies_ on his tongue and guilt running through his veins.

Like always.

* * *

The rest of the envelope sat innocently on the counter, untouched, and unread until now. She might’ve been more surprised about the circumstances if her grandfather wasn’t screaming his throat out at a world thrice cruel. Or the knowing way he treated her when…Blinking slowly, she took out the rest of the parchment.

It was an equipment list.

Things to buy to prepare for school, books, stationery, uniforms… _Wands_.

She mouthed the word quietly, a hurried breath as if someone would take it from her. She was _magic_. A thrill ran along her spine, an upturned twitch of the lips just like when she saw the owl this morning. Her eyes widened briefly in another spark of _joy_. The owl was untethered and owls were by all accounts not the smartest birds, hard to train most likely. So it had to be real. Elise ignored the tiny, constant noise that reminded her that she couldn’t have anything good forever and it was most likely a really well-manufactured prank.

He was too angry for it to be a joke. Too knowing of the letter and its contents without reading them.

Which meant she wasn’t the only witch in the family. Her heart fluttered uncertainly, keen to find a bond with her mother but she kept remembering _his_ eyes as he looked past her and kept comparing her and…She shook her head and read the parchment over. _Send word if you need assistance, a reminder to parents familiars will be found in 1 st year, no brooms allowed, tickets included in the envelope, list of acceptable pets._

Brooms?

Her eyes shifted to look at the cupboard under the stairs. _What could a broom do, other than clean things?_ She quickly reminded herself that it was _magic_ and maybe magic meant that brooms acted differently. _Or maybe, brooms were rude?_ Either way, she’d find out soon hopefully. Elise noted with a degree of surprise that she wasn’t planning otherwise, despite the fact she usually tried to do her best by him, she couldn’t let this go. She wanted to go.

Plus, what difference would it make spending a year away at a boarding school when he barely ever saw _her_?

Huffing under her breath, she quickly washed the dishes before heading up the stairs, making her way to her desk and taking out her notebook and fountain pen. She didn’t have any letter stationery, and neither did her grandfather as far as she was aware. Taking a piece of paper and gently pulling it away from the notebook she paused, worrying her lip and debating what to write.

Her hand made a quick mark of ink against the paper as he knocked on her door. _Sooner than she thought, or maybe she spent too long reading it._ He was standing in the doorframe, eyes and nose red, looking more tired than usual, more brittle. So easily broken. Elise turned her attention back to the paper.

“I don’t want you to go.” _Lies._

“I know.”

“But you want to go.” Elise nodded her head carefully, palm placed on top of the letter. “They’re taking you from me.” A mixture between a statement and a plea, he sounded on the verge of a sob and she wished he meant it.

“I’m sorry,” The words were off. She wasn’t usually the first one to apologise and they both knew it. Her fingers moved to curl inside her braid, manipulating strands in comfort to herself. Eyes slipped away from him to focus on the toys that littered her room, a dollhouse with a full family untouched by time and carefully kept. A group of teddy bears sitting on the closet, equally unused.

“I can’t go. Not again. I’ll send a letter to them.” They were both too tired. He paused as she finally looked back at him. “I’m sorry,” _He always was._ “I love you.”

_Do you?_

She watched him as he retreated back to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of that day.

Elise, wrapped in heavy blankets, observed from the windowsill as her grandfather walked towards the apple tree, a flimsy piece of paper barely the length of her index finger waved about slowly.

Eyes tracked him as he tied it in a practised manner to the owl’s leg before he quickly turned back and re-entered the house.

It took him a total of 5 minutes.

5 minutes to send for a stranger to pick her up.

5 minutes to agree for her to leave.

5 minutes wherein all the years that have passed he still hasn’t let go of-

She stood up from the windowsill, abandoning her blankets, and walked out of the room. She had chores to finish.

* * *

She sniffled slightly as she woke up, a blinding white light forcing her eyelids to shut immediately. Still, her head felt a smidgen lighter and her stomach wasn’t turning uncomfortably so she slid out of bed and took a glance around her room.

The window was open.

She let out a grumbled, wordless complaint and shut it, shivering slightly as she left the warmth of her bed. As she turned away from the window, rubbing her palms together, she noticed a scrap piece of paper lingering at the gap underneath the door to her room.

There was a moment where she wanted to stay where she was and pretend time wasn’t marching forward. Try and hold on to the idea that maybe for once they would talk.

Instead, she grabbed her glasses and picked up the note.

‘ _Don’t worry about me. I have an appointment at St Agnes’ on Monday. Might have to stay longer. Told Mrs Figg to check in on you. Food’s in the fridge, keys by the mirror. She’ll be here at 11. I’ll see you before you leave. Sorry. Love, Papa.’_

Her fingers curled around the paper, creases forming as her grip tightened momentarily before she strode to the desk and took out a pair of scissors, carefully cutting the note into pieces and throwing away most of it into the wastebasket. She clutched the small fragment that remained and gently put it inside the leather case that held her glasses, which held similar neatly cut squares of faded ink.

_Of course, we wouldn’t talk about it._

* * *

Elise hissed in pain as the needle pierced her skin, the echo of the doorbell flooding the otherwise quiet house. She watched with a mild annoyance as the handkerchief she just finished became stained with flecks of blood. The girl stood up, shrugged off the loose threads that clung to her skirt, moved to the door and paused. There was a slight shuffling on the other side of the door, a faint cough before a voice hesitantly called out.

“Mr Evans? It’s Professor McGonagall, you contacted us yesterday? I’m here to pick up Beth.”

Elise blinked in slight surprise at the name but unlocked and opened the door, eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness as the woman’s tall figure blocked out the daylight.

She had interesting hands. Her fingers especially.

The girl watched with a slight curiosity as they flexed involuntarily towards her before clutching tight onto the purse slung around the woman’s shoulder. They were long, spindly like a musician’s and her fingernails were neatly cut, short and removed of any of the nail polish she’d often see on her female teachers. There were no rings on her fingers, nor any bracelets around her wrists and the only decoration she could spot were small scars around her left thumb, woven in a circle, and a smattering of discoloured skin as if burnt by acid on her right palm.

Dragging her eyes away, she took in more of the woman’s appearance. She looked fairly young, for a deputy headmistress of a boarding school. Certainly nothing like the witches she’s heard of in passing, no warts nor green skin and fairly normal looking. _Average_ , she supposed. Her hair was dark and her eyes were a light grey. Not any fantastical colour she might have imagined last night. Still, she found it suited her well. Made her easier to read as the woman’s face shifted from a look of mournful surprise to a warm and questioning one.

“He left this morning.”

The woman’s hands twitched again and she huffed lightly under her breath before she relaxed her grip.

“Well, I suppose, it’s a pleasure to see…to meet you, Ms Potter.”

“You too, Professor McGonagall.”

The older woman looked around and tugged a small piece of familiar paper, hesitantly presenting it to Elise, an apologetic look on her face.

‘ _Send someone to take ~~the girl~~ Elisabeth. I can’t do it. She’ll know what to do. Be here at 11. – Henry Evans’_

“Right… _right_. Would you like to come in for tea, or…?”

Professor McGonagall shook her head and motioned towards the empty driveway.

“If you’re set to go, we can head out now,” Once again, her hands moved into the purse taking out a small package barely the size of her thumb. “Your key to the vault.” Elise gently removed the brown sheet that covered a tiny wrought iron key, toying with it between her fingers before she deposited it into her bag.

The Professor took out a long stick of wood, light brown with a hint of red, and pushed the hand holding the _wand_ in front of her as if calling for a taxi. Elise watched with wide eyes as a minute later a loud bang sounded and a dark purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere on the driveway. It was strange to see something so large in such a tiny space, and even stranger was the way that the bus was decorated, the silvery lettering of ‘ _The Knight Bus’_ surrounded by peculiarly smiling stars, gold and silver, which seemed to follow the pair as they stepped towards it, eyes seeming to follow their steps.

The woman next to her relaxed further and smiled down at her knowingly.

“Welcome to the Wizarding World, Ms Potter. Our chariot awaits.”

Elise let out a startled laugh.

* * *

She followed after the Professor, eyes flitting from one point inside the bus to another.

It was honestly a marvel.

The first floor of the bus was enormous, even larger than it seemed outside in their tiny driveway. It was full to the brim with picnic tables lined in colourful tablecloths of purple and green gingham, the seats covered in matching purple pillows decorated with small glittering stars that seemed to wink in and out of existence. The floor was sparkling clean too, a dark, deep black material that never seemed to end.

There weren’t that many people on the bus, but she couldn’t help and stare at those who did. They were also so _fascinatingly_ peculiar. From the three women in the back playing with a deck of bizarre and colourful cards, each one with a tall, pointy hat atop their head, a small pile of silver coins trapped in a crystal ball to the young man currently snoozing in a bed with a rabbit pressed against his face, both with a nightcap on, despite the fact it was late morning.

She felt a grin tug at the corner of her mouth as she contemplated the absurdity of that. _And the fact there was a bed on a bus._

McGonagall walked forward, in a manner that suggested that she was well acquainted with the vehicle, her face twisting to a tired yet amused expression as she sat down by one of the tables and motioned Elise towards her.

The girl followed, her eyes still wandering to catch all the peculiar and interesting sights in the bus, like the twisting, spiral staircase that rotated slowly at the back. She slid into her seat and startled as McGonagall coughed lightly, a knowing smile on her face.

“I’d suggest to hold on tight,” McGonagall relaxed slightly in her chair before tapping her wand against the surface and Elise watched in familiar amazement as a brown belt snaked out of nowhere and wrapped itself around the Professor’s waist. “In-built safety measures introduced 20 years ago after several complaints to the ministry. May I?”

Elise barely took a second before she nodded her head and watched in fascination as a smaller animated seatbelt poked out like a garden eel, slowly wrapping around her waist.

“What is this place?”

The question was muttered more to herself and she was startled as the older woman replied, a tinge of surprise and curiosity colouring her voice.

“The Knight Bus – a service for squibs and underage witches and wizards. Those who can’t currently apparate. It’ll be useful for future years when you need to head somewhere by yourself.” McGonagall paused for a moment. “Your grandfather didn’t tell you too much about our world I suppose?” Elise shook her head. “I suppose that’s understandable. At least you know a little bit about it.”

Elise bit her lip and simply stared out of the window as she felt the bus jolt, the engines thrumming in reply and the voice of an elderly man called out to hold tight.

* * *

She clambered out of the bus white-faced and tight-knuckled, stumbling out as the Professor stood behind her muttering words of comfort.

On one hand, the view out of the window had been exceptional and amazing in that it passed by so quickly.

The roaming vistas of the English countryside were a sight to behold and she loved occasionally spotting a herd of cows or a duo of a mare and her foal. The forests that they passed, whilst sparse, were enjoyable and it felt like the scent of the woodlands entered the bus at one point, lingering in the air and soothing her senses. The rivers had looked exceptionally clean from inside the bus and the journey hadn’t been long, so she didn’t feel sore from sitting in her seat.

On the other hand, she somehow managed to get sea-sick on land.

The bus had jerked them in every direction plausible and if it wasn’t for the fact that she had a seatbelt on, she’d probably gotten well acquainted with every corner of the bus. She thanked her lucky stars that they had only been on there for what felt like 10 minutes or so, instead of the hour it usually took to get to London.

The pair waited for a minute as Elise gathered her bearings and looked up at her future deputy headmistress, nodding to her as she took another deep breath in, a slight flush finally gracing her cheeks.

“I’m fine.” Elise glanced at where they had ended up, having ignored the masses of people wandering past them in favour of trying not to get rid of her breakfast on the grey cobbled streets of London. They stood in one of the main roads, off to the side, in front of a series of cafes and pubs, one that was currently in the works of getting settled in from the looks of it. People were walking in and out with boxes upon boxes, tables were being set up in the small outdoor area and a woman was currently ordering the movers around.

“Where are we going?”

“The Leaky Cauldron, it’s right over there.” Elise tracked McGonagall’s finger as she pointed towards a pub that the girl had glanced over. There weren’t any words on the building indicating its name, instead of a small sign out front with what she had initially assumed to be a pot. _A cauldron certainly made more sense_. It wasn’t very tall, nor did it seem very popular as people simply avoided it, for the most part, occasionally glancing at it and walking away. A question arose in the back of her mind but she quietly dismissed it and waited for McGonagall to lead.

“We’ll stop by Gringotts first. Then we’ll pick up your school supplies.” The older woman walked towards the building with a confident stride, hesitating as she approached the door and glancing at Elise, focusing on her fringe. The girl shuffled on her feet awkwardly in response, flattening it as best she could. “…should be fine.” The muttered words didn’t seem to be directed at her, rather McGonagall uttered the words more to herself than anything else.

* * *

There was a slight chime of a bell as they stepped into the building.

It was a lot dingier on the inside than the outside suggested, dimly lit, the two front windows only bringing in the daylight to half of the room, the rest illuminated by the faint, warm glow of candles hanging from the ceiling. Most of the heavy oak tables were unoccupied, with most of the patrons talking at the bar to an older but seemingly friendly man. In the far corner of the room, a frail-looking man sat in a plush armchair, petting a grey, fat cat from what she could make out, staring into the quietly crackling fireplace.

She didn’t have much time to take the appearance of the other patrons into account as the Professor strode forward, nodding her head at the bartender who managed to utter a quick hello as Elise quickly followed the Professor through another door that led into a cloistered courtyard.

It was quiet there, slightly suffocating as the walls seemed to stretch beyond the sky.

Everything was grey here, a dismal, depressing shade of grey bricks and a grey floor and grey skies.

McGonagall coughed again bringing attention to herself, a slightly worried look aimed at her younger companion before she took out her wand and muttered to the girl to familiarise herself with the pattern. She tapped her wand from the rubbish bin, three up, two across and Elise felt her thoughts lighten as the bricks jumped out of the way in a manner that was pure _magic_ , the heavy material dancing out of her view to reveal a world that was everything _but_ grey.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this one. I just couldn't get this one out of me. ;-; I kept rewriting scenes and deleting/adding stuff. Also just wanted to give a massive thank you to everyone who has gifted me with kudos and bookmarks and I really appreciate the comments! I'm sorry about the quality of this chapter!

It felt like they hadn’t walked far, and yet she’d seen far more in those brief five or ten minutes of walking than she had her entire life. McGonagall had kept silent for the most part. Simply keeping one amused eye on the girl as they manoeuvred through crowds of witches and wizards - past a flurry of robes and hats and animals.

At least, until she abruptly stopped, Elise, stumbling slightly in surprise as a shadow was cast over them.

“The heart of the British Wizarding Economy.” McGonagall paused in thought. “You’ll find all your vaults here. I’d suggest taking out your key before we enter.” The older woman huffed under her breath. “Absolute misanthropes.”

Green eyes observed the immaculate marble building from underneath its shadow.

Large pillars seemed to erupt from the ground, providing support for the multiple stories, the bottom of which had wide rings of gold around them. It exceeded most things in the vicinity, both in height and it’s splendour. Elise noted the wide staircase that led up to a heavy wrought iron door, equally embellished with gold detailing that could be spotted from a fair distance.

At each side stood a guard, both shorter than an average adult, dressed in heavy plate armour that seemed to hail back to the 16th century. Both of the guards wore tabards of bright scarlet and burnished gold, a tall polearm at their side.

She turned her gaze quickly when she felt they might be staring back and instead started to search her bag, wrangling a tiny key into her palm with a little effort. The girl clutched it in her palms, rolling it over between her fingers before looking up at the Professor.

“Vaults?”

“Of course.” The woman smiled at her. “Lily made sure that James didn’t spend the _entirety_ of the family money in less than a year.” Her smile dimmed slightly, her eyes taking a far off quality before looking at Elise.

_It felt wrong._

She wasn't looking at _Elise_.

“You’ll need to arrange a meeting when you reach your 14th birthday, 3 years away from your majority, to get access to the rest.”

Elise nodded hesitantly, peeling her eyes away from the woman as she stared at her in a familiar _melancholic_ manner.

They trudged towards the stairs without much more conversation, iron doors swinging open as they landed on the final step. The pair walked past the guards, neither of the duos acknowledging each other as the ladies crossed the threshold, shoes clicking lightly against gold-veined marble flooring. Another iron door, this one with a warning engraved in silver. Polite yet cold. She barely had time to take note of what was written before the doors swung open again and she was greeted with a large hall.

More marble, more gold, more pillars. A large chandelier nestled in the centre of the room, dripping in what seemed like diamonds. Iron doors decorated the walls that weren’t occupied by counters. People moved around in a hurry, most in robes and though some were wearing distinctly mundane clothing, a young child at their side, trying to get the attention of a bank teller.

Elise observed the tellers in mild fascination. The human-like creatures were small, and, she belatedly surmised that the guards at the front door were of similar heritage. They had long fingers, with equally long nails, pointed at the tip like a claw and black like the colour of her hair.

In fact, everything about them seemed pointed: pointed nails, pointed ears, pointed nose. Pointed expressions. 

They all seemed peculiarly dour.

Dressed in sharp Victorian-style suits, dark eyes glaring at whatever was in front of them, be it living or simply an inanimate wall. Each teller had a small stack of coins, bronze and silver and gold, that their fingers would occasionally caress before they continued whatever exchanges were going on.

“Goblins. You’ll learn about them in detail in your History of Magic class.”

Elise turned her head in embarrassed surprise, but McGonagall shook her head politely.

“You’re allowed to ask questions, Be-Ms. Potter. But, I feel we should get going on the matter of your finances first.”

With that, the Professor turned on her heel and strode forward with casual confidence, Elise trailing behind her. She felt the key dig deeper into her palm as the _goblin_ looked down at the pair from his elevated velvet seat, one finger casually adjusting the glasses atop his nose before he sneered down at them.

“Ms Potter is here for a withdrawal, we’d like to go down.”

“Does Ms Potter have her key?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?”

The girl passed the key over to the taller woman who slid it forward to the bank teller. They watched as he stared at Elise for a second, snorted and looked down at the key, assessing it for _something_ before muttering under his breath and ringing the bell. He slid the key back and the trio waited for a minute in silence.

Another goblin came out from one of the side doors and this time she was able to hear the teller as he spoke, the words in a language that reminded her somewhat of Russian before he turned back to them.

“Korak will help you access the vault.”

* * *

Elise was still off-kilter from seeing the vast amount of gold in her vault, a shock that seemed to be shared by McGonagall as the woman had started muttering under her breath about _excessive_ and _never-changing._ Upon her elder’s recommendation, she had taken out 30 galleons which were more than enough for quality equipment with money to spare for Christmas or the train. At least, according to the Professor.

Upon leaving the bank, they bought a trunk first, to make it easier to carry everything, the potion equipment and telescope following quickly after. The book store was next, and Elise spent a couple of minutes just reading some of the titles, before picking out her school books and one book on embroidery patterns. McGonagall only suggested that she not buy too many books ahead of Hogwarts as it had a comprehensive library.

“I’ll grab us something to eat as its nearing lunchtime, I’ll be back in 20 or so minutes which should be enough time for Madame Malkin to take care of everything.”

The girl simply nodded and headed into the building, a light jingle of the bell as she entered, the trunk trailing behind her.

“Darling, please stand up a bit straighter.”

“Yes, _mom_.”

"Tone."

“Oh, it’s alright, darling girl, I’m used to it – oh! Hello, there dearie!”

“Hello, I’m here for…Hogwarts?” The tallest woman, draped in heavy velvet robes, smiled at her warmly and gestured for Elise to stand over at one of the slightly raised platforms, next to another girl whose nose was stuck in a large tome. _Hogwarts: A History_.

“Right, right. Just stand up straight and I’ll take care of you. Everything standard, dearie?”

Elise nodded hesitantly keeping an eye on one of the animated tape measures that flew over. The girl next to her huffed in irritation as it wrapped around her forehead. She was exceptionally tall and somewhat lanky. Tanned, with a large nest of frizzy brown hair tied in an equally messy ponytail with dark brown eyes. A smattering of freckles decorated her nose which had a minor bump in the middle.

“You’re also a first-year?” One of the women, the girl’s mother, presumably from the shared facial features asked. Like her daughter, she was tall, with jaw-length blonde hair and dark brown eyes, a similar pattern of freckles, one hand grasping tightly at the other woman standing next to her. The one in question was the shortest of the lot, but her presence was the largest. There was a quiet confidence about her that seemed to seep out of her pores without much restraint. The fabric of her blouse strained around her arms, biceps clearly defined and her left-hand leisurely drew circles over her companion's. The woman had an easy grin on her lips as she looked towards Elise.

“Yes ma’am.”

“So is my daughter – Hermione, say hello. You’re in the same boat.”

The girl – _Hermione_ – shut the book with a resigned look at her mother, who simply returned the look with one raised eyebrow.

“Hello. I’m Hermione. _Obviously_. That’s my mom, Emma, she’s a dentist. And that’s my _other mom_ Dani, she’s _also_ a dentist.”

They were tense, or at least the older pair was as Hermione said that.

It wasn't that hard to tell considering her grandfather's habits. The tailor, who she assumed was Madame Malkin, simply focused on writing down the measurements with a long peacock quill, seemingly uninterested in rehashing introductions. The daughter on the other hand was staring at her intensely, hands forming into fists as if getting ready to fight her.

“Elisabeth. It’s nice to meet you all.”

She pretended to not notice how the pair relaxed as Hermione brightened, a hesitant smile on her face.

“So are your family magic?”

“Yes? I’ve just found out about this whole thing. My grandpa didn’t tell me.”

“Your grandpa-“ Emma, the blonde, coughed in warning, leaning against Dani as she relaxed. “Right…So…are you excited to go?” Elise nodded awkwardly in reply as the tape measure wrapped around her throat, the Madame murmuring a word of apology as she flicked her wand towards a pile of fabric and it draped over Hermione. “Have you read the books yet?”

“Not yet, I just bought them.”

“We had a lunch break and I read through a couple of chapters of this book.” She lifted the tome. “There’s apparently four houses, and I really want to get into Gryffindor. My moms are torn between that and Ravenclaw.” Elise looked at her in confusion. “Ravenclaw is the house for the bookish people. Or at least, from what I’ve gathered. But honestly, Gryffindor just sounds like it’d be a good fit.” She barely seemed to take a breath.

Elise’s lips twitched upward in quiet amusement.

“Well, I wish you good luck with that.”

Hermione grinned at her, eyes closed and teeth nearly blinding, in response as the Madame wrapped up a brown package full of clothes, hesitating slightly as she said the next words.

“I hope we can chat later on the train?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind that, honestly. I’ll make sure to read at least some of the books so we can talk about them?”

Hermione beamed at her, her smile even brighter than before, as she slid off the platform, her mothers handing over 2 galleons and a couple of sickles, the package dropped into the girl’s trunk. As the couple departed she could hear the warm praise of ‘well done’ and ‘proud of you’ showered on the other pre-teen, Hermione’s laugh filling up the room as she was left alone with the Madame.

* * *

Exactly 20 minutes later, a purse slightly lighter and a trunk slightly fuller, Elise departed the shop to be met by McGonagall who handed her a small brown carton box which held a portion of bangers and mash. She muttered a word of thanks as they sat slightly off the main path on a bench, the older woman depositing a cup filled with hot tea that smelled distinctly of forest fruits.

The pair finished their meal in comfortable silence before they stood up and McGonagall vanished the trash with a flick of her wand.

“Now to get you a wand.”

* * *

It was dark, dusty and quiet. A nice change of pace from the outside. Elise glanced over the surroundings, there was a door at the back, barely cracked open, a hardwood table in front of it where piles upon piles of boxes were sat. McGonagall glanced around the room hesitantly, eyes wandering as if trying to find someone. _Probably the shopkeeper._ They took two steps into the shop before the pair jumped as a voice spoke up behind them.

“Minerva McGonagall! It’s been a while since you’ve last visited. 9½ inches long, fir wood, and a dragon heartstring core. How’s it working out for you?”

They turned around just in time for a strong wind to flood the room, throwing the boxes on to the floor, loose fabric lifted up slightly and hair flew upwards, cool wind hitting bare skin. His hands were absolutely riddled with interesting scars, minor silvery nicks on his fingers, an enormous bite on his right palm, a burn running up the entire span of his left hand and arm. Flecks of gold shimmered as if embedded into flesh and his nails whilst trim and exact had spots of dark maroon underneath them. He was extremely wrinkly, far more than her grandfather, with bright amber eyes and a shock of white hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in decades. His right ear was slightly mangled as if something had started to chew it before giving up and a wide smile on his face.

“It’s working well, Master Ollivander.”

Somehow his smile stretched even wider as he danced around them and stood behind his desk, flicked a pinkish-red wand with swirls of silver and watched as the boxes hopped on to the table. His eyes twinkled with merriment before he refocused on the pair. Ollivander glanced at Elise, and hummed a wordless little tune under his breath, his smile softening.

“Your parents favoured dragon heartstrings, much like our dear Professor. Willow for your mother, mahogany for your father.” He chuckled under his breath. “I know for a fact you certainly won’t find a partner in unicorn hair. No, no…hmm.” He waved his wand and animated a small flock of tape measures. “Right or Left?”

“Right, sir.”

Ollivander chortled in amusement, muttering about her calling him ‘ _sir_ ’ as tape measures crowded around Elise, McGonagall watched on with mild curiosity at the debacle. He shuffled into the back, a minute or two passing as the tape measures retreated after him, before rushing out with a high stack of boxes, laying them out in front of her.

“Most of these are for my own amusement. I’m hopeful in my readings.” He placed one final box on a little stool behind the table. “Just…try any one of these first.”

She picked a box, second from the left.

The man snickered slightly. “Cypress, 7 inches, dragon heartstring. Go on. Give it a wave.” Elise hesitantly flicked her wand at the wall and watched in alarm alongside McGonagall as the stone started to melt on impact. He picked up the box on the little stool and wandered over to her. “It’s fine, I knew this would happen.” The girl didn’t look at all comforted by that fact. “Want to try another one of the volatile five?”

“Master Ollivander!”

“I’m only kidding, Minerva. I won’t scar the lady.” He snickered slightly as if he just told the funniest of jokes. “Here, try this one, a young partner for part of the journey. He’s very new.” He patted the box before reaching out for the palm clutching onto the cypress wand. “If you will move your icy hand?” He sang the words lightly.

Elise unfurled her hand and handed the dangerous piece of wood over, exchanging it for the box. Inside was a pale wand atop a silk bed of dark blue, spreading warmth to the tip of her fingers despite it not being in her hand. She could almost feel the soft hum of magic running through it.

“Holly, phoenix feather, 11 inches.” She saw his expression drop slightly as her palm surrounded the wood. He looked _guilty_ for some reason. Shrugging it off, for now, she looked at the wand in hesitation. On one hand, it was a wand that supposedly fit her. On the other hand, she was still staring at a slowly melting stone wall. “Don’t worry too much, he needs you more than you need him. Just swish and a flick.”

A quick movement of her right hand and she watched in wonder as a small bird of pale blue flames flickered out from the tip of her wand. It chirped silently at her before disappearing a second later.

“A swish and a flick,” Elise muttered the words under her breath.

“What can I say? I’ve been doing this for a while.”

McGonagall wandered over to the pair, still eyeing the pile of boxes on the table. “We need to leave soon, Ms Potter. If that’s all Master Ollivander?”

The man paused, the guilt intensifying as he looked from the girl to the wand. “It’s 7 galleons for the wand. Just…”

“Oh spit it out or leave her be.”

He grimaced in response, hesitating before taking a deep breath in. “I...The phoenix feather in your wand?” He wrung his fingers and repositioned the boxes so they were stacked together, in one neat pile. “Your wand has a sibling. I’ve used the same phoenix before. A feather in another wand.” He huffed under his breath. “I...Oh, Eira.” He stood before her, unnaturally subservient and apologetic.

“Your wand’s brother made that scar.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was a stark difference when she returned home.

Everything seemed drabber as McGonagall left her on the doorstep to Privet Drive; abandoning her and returning to Hogwarts. To magic. It was almost as if her departure leeched all the colours out of the world, drained the life from the house and the garden and the tree and…

And.

The next few days as she awaited her grandfather’s return were spent with her head in her books and her hand on a quill.

It was…strange to write with it. It should’ve been more awkward than a fountain pen, but it felt far more natural in her hand than anything else. Her handwriting wasn’t any better, not that it was absolutely illegible in the first place, but the writing itself came smoother. The words were sharper. She wondered whether this was why wizards and witches used a quill. Or maybe a different reason? It’s not like there was anyone she could ask.

Mrs Figg had occasionally come in to check on her. A plate covered in foil provided at lunch and a freshly baked cookie as a snack for later. She didn’t stay long, often adjusting a languishing cat around her neck as she puttered around and made sure Elise was still alive. Reminding her to not talk to strangers and to lock her doors and windows.

It was a nice break from the silence of the home.

He came back on the fifth day. Early in the morning, knocking at the door. _He forgot his key again._ She opened the door and realised she hadn’t seen him outside in the morning light in a while. A passing thought that he, much like her current surroundings, seemed to be washed out and discoloured. _Off_. It wasn’t just his colour though. The bright light of the sun had the habit of exposing minute details that the warm amber glow of the lightbulbs hid. Frailer, more tired, _more_ …and yet less. He seemed less of a man and more of a shade. Like the ones that plagued his mind.

He wasn’t right anymore. Maybe he never was.

He passed by her wordlessly and headed upstairs to his room.

* * *

There was a change in their routine from then on.

The next couple of weeks she saw her grandfather with less frequency than before. Elise could hear him pacing around, opening and closing doors that remained locked to her. He barely said anything to her anymore. _Fewer words to mistake her for someone else_.

On the 1st of September, he finally drove her away.

* * *

She stared at the wall behind her.

_Magic._

But the thrill she usually felt in the pit of her stomach about the subject was pushed to the back in favour of that bitter taste in her mouth. He crossed the barrier with her, to her own surprise, his hands clutching onto her trunk.

He looked at the train with nostalgia. At the families with longing.

At her with disappointment.

Somethings never change.

He huffed under his breath, pulled her in close and awkwardly patted her shoulder. _Be good_. Elise muttered a word of goodbye as he turned his back on her, the words not reaching his ears anymore. Green eyes tracked him as he walked up to a uniformed man at the pillar, the duo walking through and his figure disappearing into the brickwork. Leaving her alone, as families bustled around muttering tearful goodbyes and warm words of affection.

Resigned she swivelled on her heel and tugged the trunk behind her towards the gleaming black and red train. She felt a sting at her eyes and rubbed them distractedly with one palm.

“You should probably wash your hands.”

Elise jumped slightly at the sudden voice to her right and stared up to find a grinning, freckled boy pointing at her.

“My dearest brother, if she wishes to muck around in the filth that is her…” A voice to her left spoke up, trailing a bit at a loss for words.

“Right?” A mirrored reflection looked down from the left as the right boy spoke. An equally matching grin on his face. Both of them had a shock of red hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed since their birth. Both had warm brown eyes and flushed cheeks. “Can we offer you our services, little lady?” The right twin bowed to her extravagantly, winking at her with mischief. A small squeak yelped out in surprise as what she thought was a fur collar twisted and clung to his robes. A ferret.

“What?” Her hand fell to her side and she distractedly noted that there was a bit of dust on her fingers. “Services?”

“Look at this little confused firstie, Fred.”

“Need help with your trunk?”

“I…” They looked at her expectantly, grins still wide and welcoming, eyes gentle. Kind. “I’d appreciate it.”

They switched sides, the right twin, Fred, now on her left, whilst the other one picked up her trunk with ease.

“My name’s George. That one’s Fred.” Fred pipped up as they walked her up to the platform, offering his hand to provide support as they jumped over the gap into the train. The walls were a warm blue wallpaper decorated with a smattering of stars. “We’re 2nd years. If you need anything let us know.”

“That’s right. I’m George, he’s Fred.” The one tugging her trunk laughed. She felt her forehead crease in confusion and they must have seen it too as their laughing became louder. A blonde head poked out of one of the rooms at the noise before the door shut. “Sometimes, I’m Gred.”

“Sometimes I’m Forge.”

“Anything’s good.” They spoke the last two words in unison. Brown eyes winking at brown eyes like a reflection in a mirror. The trunk swapped hands and _George?_ led the trio towards one of the unoccupied rooms.

“You’ll need to take out your robes later, but you can leave the trunk on the train.”

“Elves will take care of the rest.”

The twins patted each other on the shoulder, muttering a good job to the other one.

“Thank you.” The words came out softer than she planned. A lot more fragile than she would’ve liked. The boys looked at each other again staring at each other as if they could communicate telepathically.

“Don’t worry. As we said…”

“If you need anything…”

“Let us know.”

They all turned at a sound of a disgruntled bark at the door, as a long muzzle pressed against the glass of the wall, it’s front paws visible at the bottom of the glass. The dog disappeared once again, it’s small face letting out a loud yip at the wood frame of the door. George flushed a bright red, as he turned the door open and apologised to the fox-like pup as Fred let out a chuckle before he spoke to Elise.

“Right. You’re gonna be okay, kid?”

“Elise.”

“…Alrighty. Elise. Got it. You’re okay?”

The girl nodded, eyeing the trunk that was upon the shelf.

“Thanks, you two.”

George had picked up the pup and was scratching at its ear as Fred moved towards him and poked the top of its snout in amusement.

“We’ll be around if you need us.”

She watched the pair close the door behind them and jump out of the train onto the platform, heading towards a group of matching red-haired individuals. A small girl clutching a football-sized, golden coloured sphere with stuffed white wings on either side of it. A plump, older-looking lady with a warm smile who was currently in the process of handing out brown packages to the children. An older man currently fiddling around with a Rubik’s cube as he spoke to one of the taller red-headed boys. There were a lot of them.

Elise shifted in the plush green velvet nervously and examined the muted yellow tones of the wallpaper. The door had a lock on it, the glass window surrounded by two bundles of bronze coloured curtains. She moved out of her seat and shifted the curtains to cover the window before sitting back down and examining the people arriving on the platform.

* * *

About 15 minutes in as Elise was silently observing the families on the platform she heard a knock on the door. Walking towards the door, she twisted the handle and was met with familiar brown eyes and bushy brown hair.

“Elisabeth!” There was a slightly hesitant grin on the girl’s face as she spoke out. “I- I was looking for you.” The taller girl wrung her fingers together before asking in a slightly calmer tone. “Do you want to sit together?” A slight pause before Hermione hurriedly added, “Only if you’re okay with it, of course.” Her grin dimmed.

“No- I mean, no, I’m totally okay with it.” Elise smiled lightly. “Come in. Pop your trunk up on the shelf.” The shorter girl turned around and sat on one of the benches. “You won’t need to take it with you according to some second years.”

Hermione’s smile widened and she opened her trunk briefly tugging out a familiar book.

“Want to go over some stuff with me? I’ve learnt a lot from it – It’s really fascinating!”

“You don’t want to stay and talk to your Mums a bit longer?”

The brunette shook her head and showed off a toothy grin. “It’s date night tonight. I promised to write them this week, whenever I have time. Soon though.” She hopped on to the bench opposite Elise and cracked the book open on her knees. “Have you heard about the four houses?”

“Not really, I was studying for the classes.”

“Well, there’s a ton of fascinating stuff. Apparently our Headmaster, that’s Dumbledore, he was in the letter? Yeah, so he’s apparently a Gryffindor and really powerful and I really want to be a Gryffindor like him, you know? It would just be so amazing to share the same house. Plus Gryffindor’s are really well known for being…”

* * *

“And, Hogwarts was initially built in 990 A.D, right? But there’s a ton of new additions like the Owlery which had to be rebuilt in 1623 and the Quidditch fields which were built in 1050. Quidditch is-“

Hermione was interrupted as a tall, if slightly shorter than Hermione herself, boy barged into the room. She saw him outside earlier, with the twins’ family. He had a smear on his nose, bright blue eyes and even more freckles than his brothers. He looked awkward, slightly frenzied and extremely excited.

“Rude,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

The red-headed boy ignored her entirely and focused on Elise. He seemed to be going over a mental checklist before he opened his mouth.

“Are you Betty Potter?”

“Excuse me?”

“The-Girl-Who-Lived? Betty Potter? Elisabeth Potter? You know? That Potter?”

“My name _is_ Elisabeth Potter. But I don’t go by _Betty_.” The girl replied, looking towards Hermione in confusion. The older girl seemed to have seemingly forgotten her anger at the interruption in favour of reaching up towards her trunk and looking through her books.

“Doesn’t really matter.” The boy blurted out. “Do you really have a scar?”

Elise slid further down the bench and rubbed at her forehead self-consciously.

“Can I see it? Is that where You-Know-Who cast the spell?” He continued on ignoring her discomfort. “You know, I’ve heard stories about you. You’ll definitely be a Gryffindor. Like me. And we can be best friends even though you’re a…you know.”

Hermione locked her trunk and put a book down on her side of the room before pipping up with brows furrowed.

“A you know?”

The boy shuffled on his feet awkwardly.

“You know…” He coughed under his breath. “A…a girl.”

Hermione stood up tall and walked up to him. “A _girl_?” She spat out the word with fury, poking at his chest and forcing him to take a step back. “You _barge_ into our room, don’t apologise and then insult my fir-friend?” She glared at the red-head as he took another step back, standing outside of the room. “ _Out._ ” She paused before her tone turned softer, more pleasant, “You have dirt on your nose.” Hermione then slammed the door in his face, still red-faced and fists clenched tightly.

“Are you okay, Hermione?”

The girl took a deep breath in, fists unclenching and fingers running anxiously through her hair before turning to Elise. “Yeah…are you okay? Are you fine with everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…me calling you my friend for one.” Hermione seemed extremely small as she spoke out.

“It’d…it’d make me really happy if we’re friends.” The last syllable ended on a higher note, making it appear more of a question than she’d plan for it to be. “I mean.” Elise rushed the next few words “If you’re okay with it.”

Elise was nearly blinded by the answering grin as her hands were tugged into the other girl’s, a warm squeeze before the warmth disappeared and she slid into the seat opposite.

“Anyways…are you really-“ Hermione paused, grimacing before taking a deep breath in. “Where was I? Quidditch. Right – so it’s this sport where you fly on brooms. You know how they’re mentioned in the letter? It’s positively barbaric from what I read and makes zero sense. So there are four balls, although two of them are the same and…”

* * *

A knock sounded from the door interrupting Hermione’s recent topic of enchanted chess games.

“Anything from the trolley dears?”

The girls looked at each other before opening the door, faced with a kindly older woman with a bonnet on her hair and a set of white robes decorated with images of candy and pies. She had a trolley in front of her equally lavishly decorated by steaming pies and chilled glass bottles, trays of packaged chocolate and sugar lollipops.

“I…” Elise looked towards Hermione who was looking at the trolley with mild interest, before shaking her head and nodding towards her trunk.

“My Mum packed me a lunch. I’m sure Mamma packed a snack too.”

“I’ll take one of the pies, a drink and…” Elise paused. “Two of the chocolate…um..frogs?”

The trolley lady smiled down at Elise. “Be careful with the frogs, darling girl. They’re animated. Might leap out of the door or window, so be quick. Cheese and onion pie with pumpkin juice coming right up.”

Elise mouthed the words _pumpkin juice_ back at Hermione before taking a small brown package and handing the woman 3 sickles for the set. Hermione mouthed right back _animated frogs._ The door slid and the woman walked to the next room as Elise unwrapped the package and took out the two frogs, passing one to Hermione.

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“My mothers are dentists.” Hermione paused. “But one _magical_ frog shouldn’t be that bad right? It’s magic.”

The shorter girl grinned and read the packaging over for instructions before opening up the box with one hand, the other placed near the gaps as the frog jumped out into her fingers. She giggled as the smooth chocolate writhed in her hands before stilling.

It tasted like ordinary chocolate and was easily downed in less than 3 minutes.

“There’s a card in the package….I have Albus Dumbledore!”

Elise pried out one of her cards and was greeted with an empty canvas and golden lettering.

“Same as you. Dumble-” She broke off as a wizened old man entered her card, waving up at her cheerily.

“He disappeared!”

* * *

They forgot to lock the door.

And apparently, it was a habit for people to barge in without a word of warning as a platinum-haired boy walked in. His stride was confident and he was probably an inch taller than Elise, equally pale and his grey eyes glaring at the room with distaste before landing on said girl.

“I heard Eliza Potter was here?”

“Elisabeth Potter, yes. Did you need something?” Hermione spoke up, eyebrows furrowed at the boy.

He took a moment to take stock of Hermione before drawling out his next words. “And who are _you_?”

“Hermione Granger. Yourself?”

“Granger…A relative of Dagworth-Granger?” Hermione blinked at the boy in confusion. “Ah…a _muggle-born_.” He turned back to Elise. “ _I’m_ Draco Malfoy. Heir to the Malfoy Family. I’m sure we could be good friends, Eliza.”

“It’s Elisabeth. And I already have a good friend.” Elise sat up a bit straighter, looking towards Hermione reassuringly. “I certainly don’t want some as rude as you to be one of mine.”

The boy huffed at her in derision.

“ _Girls._ ” He glared at Hermione before smiling at her with saccharine sweetness “I’m sure you’ll come to your senses soon enough. Learn to pick the _right_ people to be your friends.”

Closing the door with uncharacteristic politeness, the girls could hear him stomping lightly as he departed muttering under his breath. Hermione moved over to Elise’s side and slumped on the bench.

“Thanks for not abandoning me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Hermione laughed a little, though it sounded slightly choked and she looked slightly teary.

“Are all boys just naturally this rude?”

Elise smiled at her and shrugged her shoulders, offering the brunette a chilled bottle of pumpkin juice.

* * *

This time Hermione wasn’t interrupted whilst speaking. She was simply sat curled up on one of the benches reading a book whilst Elise worked on a new embroidery project. They decided to change into their robes already and Hermione was using hers as a makeshift blanket to hide her feet under as her shoes sat by the bench.

There was a hesitant knock before a chubby boy stumbled into the room, apologising all the way, his face teary and his cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry, but have you seen a toad recently?” He sniffled under his breath and rubbed his nose against the sleeves of matching black robes. “I’ve lost her.” He looked ready to cry.

The pair turned to each other and shook their heads in unison as Hermione slipped off the bench, into her shoes and towards the boy.

“Do you need help? We can try and look for your toad with you. We’re already changed.”

He looked at Hermione with wide, shocked eyes. “Yes, please. I’m Neville. I…thank you so much.” His shoulders relaxed slightly as if cheered up by the prospect of the company. “I already checked the previous cart.”

“We should ask an older student for help,” Elise spoke up, causing the boy to startle as he was reminded of her presence. “They might know a spell or something?” The words tumbled out awkwardly and she felt the urge to kick herself but the other two didn’t seem to notice. Hermione just nodded resolutely.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

It didn’t take the trio long before they stumbled upon a boy in black and blue robes – a _Ravenclaw_ according to Hermione’s earlier speech on the houses. He was waving at another t– first years – as they retreated back to their room and his face turned towards them. He had a shiny badge on his robes with the initials H.B, prominently displayed and sparkling in the light.

“Can I help you?”

The trio looked at each other before Neville nervously spoke up. “I…I lost my toad?” The girls nodded at him in encouragement and he stood a little straighter. “We…I was wondering if you could help me?” The older student smiled at Neville and reached for his wand.

“Sure, shouldn’t be too hard. Just give me a description.” He paused before adding, “If we don’t find your toad, don’t worry too much, they’ll either appear on the journey up to Hogwarts or in your room with your trunk.” He poked at a sleeping rabbit on the shelf next to him. “Come on, Amira, we’re on a hunt for a toad.”

Neville turned to the girls and mouthed a word of thanks before following after the other boy.

“Sorted.” Hermione grinned at Elise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took so long. I've decided to move my update schedule so that I update once a week (hopefully) and not on a set date because that's stressful. Slightly longer chapter to make up for it. If you have any questions feel free to throw them at me I will do my best. <3


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the journey passed by pretty quietly, the only sound occasionally rising up were from students shuffling past, quiet chatter and scuffing of shoes against the varnished floor.

The girls were quiet, unable to fully relax from the previous interruptions and with the looming knowledge that _soon…_

Soon, they’d be at Hogwarts.

Hermione had her book open, but her eyes were anxiously watching the window as the sky slowly darkened. Her fingers traced the pages of it and it seemed like they spent decades in silence.

They passed mountains, lakes, and rivers. Forests blurred with open meadows and red hues turned to purple.

They felt it before they heard it, slightly thrown off in their seats, backs hitting plush cushions as the train stuttered to a screeching halt. There was another moment of silence, immediately broken by voices of boys and girls telling everyone to get off the train as the light in their room dimmed to a soft orange glow. Elise turned to gaze up at her trunk, startling slightly as eyes as large as tennis balls looked back at her.

She rubbed her eyes and looked again only to be met with her trunk still on the shelf and no eyes to be seen there.

“We’re leaving them right?”

Elise turned to Hermione who was already waiting at the door, the shorter girl nodded before they left, matching black robes with white lining swaying slightly as a cold wind blew into the hallway. They followed a group of fellow first-years, feet hitting the grey stone pavement.

“First years o’er here!”

They nearly drowned in the sudden flood of first years as they walked towards the booming voice a distance over, barely making out a small hill where others have accumulated.

Frosty breath fogged up Elise’s glasses and she quickly took them off, rubbing them against a sleeve before putting them on just in time to hear Hermione’s sharp breath in.

He was _massive._

His hands were the size of an alley-cat or even her trunk. Covered in bandages, dusted in a thin layer of dirt and mud and the closer she got the more details she could make out. The frayed ends were the bandages have come undone, the small twigs stuck in between the layers. He was wearing a heavy leather waterproof coat that brushed his mud-flecked shoes. His nose and ears were flushed red as he beamed at the flock of first years gathering at his side.

“If that’s all of you...I’m Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and I’ll be taking you to the boats. ”

Elise took one final glance over to the train station, noting that further down the hill there was a small settlement currently alit in the night. The train had halted to a still and the trolley and the person who she assumed was the train conductor were currently chatting under the roof of the shelter. She felt the tug on her robe sleeve and noticed Hermione pulling her along with the rest of the group, following the giant man as he led them through a heavy thicket of creeping greens and gnarled trees.

The ground under their feet crinkled as they stepped on dry leaves and a smattering of pebbles. Another breeze picked up, cold wind flicking loose strands of hair and bringing more leaves to the path. She heard rustling in the bushes as they crept past, the chatter of excited students somewhat muted under the dense foliage above them. Elise’s ears perked up as a whisper brushed her ear, a soft breath of wind, a flutter of wings before realising Hermione asked her a question.

“Excuse me?”

“I was asking if you knew how…we’re going to be sorted?”

Elise shook her head as the group finally reached the beginnings of a sandy beach.

“Do you think it’ll be a written exam?” Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “I think I’ve studied enough that I would probably pass. Hopefully.” Her eyes flashed with mild panic. “But what if it’s not on the book list?”

“I don’t think we know enough for them to test us yet.” Hermione nodded hesitantly but started to recite under her breath everything she’s read so far. Elise huffed in reply with slight amusement, causing the brunette to shrug at her apologetically.

They finally hit the dock, the cobbled stone, dimly lit by the lanterns in the four corners, illuminating the fleet of wooden boats patiently sat on the still, dark waters. Each boat had a large knitted blanket laid out in the middle across the benches.

Blue, red, yellow, green.

_House colours._

“Feel free to grab a blanket, it’ll take a bit to cross this old pond. Made 'em myself” The tall man, _Hagrid_ , spoke up proudly. He finally turned around and seemed to be searching the group before turning around to reassure a red-headed girl that the boats are safe and she won’t fall out. Even if she couldn't swim. “Ah! And remember. No more than four to a boat.” The girl and her friend moved away from Hagrid and towards the other duo, Elise and Hermione staring down at the boats with mild apprehension.

“Mind if we join you two? I’m Hannah – this is Suzie.”

“Susan.” Susan looked at the boat warily as it swayed on the lake. “Do you think it’s really safe, though?”

Hannah just patted the redhead's shoulder in comfort, eyes still maintained on the other pair in question.

“Oh, yeah – no, feel free.”

The two new girls slipped into the boat and Hannah threw the blanket over her friend, grabbing Susan’s hand into hers and holding it firm.

“All right. Everyone on a boat?”

* * *

There was lively chatter as the boats swept past the shaded section of the lake, the foliage of bent willows blocking most of the view.

Hermione was preoccupied, Hannah was comforting Susan and Susan was looking slightly green at the gills. Behind them, Elise spotted the blonde boy – Draco and two large boys stuffing themselves with snacks, hands covered in chocolate as he looked at them with mild disgust. She noted Neville with the red-headed boy, a jar closely held to his chest as the twin’s brother regaled the other occupants of his boat, wildly gesturing with his hands.

The hushed frenzy of noise quieted as a shadow poked out ahead of them, the greenery fading behind them. It peeked out for a minute or less, Hagrid waving at it with casual affection as it disappeared.

“Giant Squid, your neighbour for the next seven years.” He hollered at them from ahead, his voice drowned out by the sudden magnitude of what they faced.

An expanse of depthless waters speckled with reflected stars and a half-moon that waxed and waned across the slightly disturbed surface. It felt like they were being watched by millions of eyes both from within the lake and on the distant edge of the forest.

The brief peace was quickly disturbed as the reflection of a cliff loomed over them, a blazing fortress of warm candlelight and a perceptible increase in the excitement as the conversations came back in full force, eyes blazing in excitement. There was a burst of audible laughter as the lake was suddenly filled with light.

Lanterns of silver and black, gold and bronze floated towards them setting the lake ablaze in warm hues of fire. Elise watched with rapt attention as the flames snaked out of the lanterns licking the waters as the persistent breeze came back to toy with the other elements, pushing their boats on further towards the beach that was nestled at the bottom of the cliff’s edge.

* * *

The group took a staggered breath as they finally reached the ornate oak doors that blocked their way into the castle.

The climb had been a bit of a trek, although the weather made it slightly more bearable. Susan and Hannah had split off from them once they reached the shore, choosing to join up with a different group. Hermione had stuck by her in the end and the two chose to hang at the rear of the group, a step closer to each other than they had been on the other side of the lake.

Elise missed the comfort of the blanket that was left behind in the boat, having enjoyed having something to hold on to. Still, her eyes roved across the twisting towers of Hogwarts, the cold stone brick decorated with cracks that seemed to have been placed with purpose in mind, the climbing ivy that reached the tops of the pointed roofs.

There was a loud groan as the sturdy doors were pushed inward, and a familiar tall woman stood at the base of another set of stairs. Soft music played in the background as the woman walked towards the group, her face set in a welcoming expression, if a bit cold.

“That’s all of them, ‘fessor.”

“I’ll take it from here, Hagrid, you go up to the table.”

Hagrid beamed up at Professor McGonagall, patted the pocket of his coat and stepped through a side door, heavy footsteps echoing in the main chamber for a second.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.”

The sound of a hundred voices echoed from a nearby room. The rest of the school was already sat down, presumably. Or standing? Elise wouldn't know until she saw them, she supposed, still. Sitting seemed to make far more sense.

“A banquet will begin shortly after you enter, but first, a few words.” The professor paused as she glared at two girls who were chatting to each other in the corner. “Before you take your seats to eat in our Great Hall, you shall be sorted into the four houses that make up this institution.”

A soft hoot spoke up as a large horned owl flew into the room through the door that Hagrid came in, landing neatly on the professor’s shoulder. The older woman turned her glare to the creature before continuing on. “These houses will be much like a family for the duration of your study and, often, beyond into your adulthood.”

“You will sleep with your housemates, eat with your housemates, and oft spend your free time in your house’s shared common room.” She patted the owl on its head. “Now, this does not mean you’ll be isolated from the rest of the houses. In fact, inter-house friendship is as much celebrated as intra-house ones.”

“Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin. Each a great house in its own right and I hope you maintain their good reputation whilst you reside within these walls.” Deep breath in, overall glance across the room, another pat. “Now, the Sorting will occur in a few minutes, please smarten up in the meantime.”

Elise saw Hermione fidget with her hair self-consciously, running her hands through the cloud of bushy hair. The shorter girl watched as the professor retreated before quickly redoing her braid and flattening her fringe.

“Fred told me we’ll have to fight a troll.”

The green-eyed girl looked towards the familiar dirt-smudged nose and freckled face. He rang his fingers together, gangly limbs swinging at his side as he released his palms.

“Really, Ron?” Neville pipped up nervously, the jar with a toad peeking out from his robe pocket. “I don’t think I could fight one.”

Ron shrugged, though his face was scrunched up in worry. “George said it hurts a lot. I’m hoping they’re joking.”

A mocking laugh rose up again and Elise watched in resignation as another familiar face joined the conversation around her.

“Really, Weasel? You _believe_ that?”

“Shut up, Malfoy. At least I’m not stupid enough to do a Barnes opening.”

“I was _distracted._ ”

“Sure thing. Were you distracted when I-“

She drowned out the argument in favour of watching as the wall to the groups left rippled, a sudden cool sensation crept into the previously warm room. Her breath turned frosty and she watched in interest as most of the first years huddled slightly closer, an unfamiliar chill snaking into the room before silvery figures shifted into the room.

Phased through the clearly physical stone walls.

Hermione stopped muttering her breath in keen interest as the pearly figures drifted to join them, the words of an argument stilled on translucent white tongues and the eyes of twenty or so ghosts stared at the group in surprise.

A portly, chained figure in stained fine robes narrowed his eyes before coughing and whispering to another ghost in what looked like monk robes. The monk nodded swiftly and his expression turned warm at the startled group of children.

“New students! About to be sorted yes?” A few of the first years nodded, shaking out of their stupor. “Hope to see you all in Hufflepuff. My old house.” He winked at the group.

The music picked up slightly in volume as a long and slender man piped up. “Gryffindor is also a good house, my good Friar!” The Friar nodded in agreement and the ghosts glided down towards them all, eyes wandering over each individual as the room slowly warmed to its previous temperature.

A ruffle of feathers and the horned owl flew in between the students and the ghosts, flapping its wings.

“Move along now,” The professor’s voice was slightly sharp as she herded the ghosts out with the aid of the owl. “The Sorting is due to start. Now, form a line.”

* * *

It was so inherently lovely – lit by an infinite number of candles suspended in the air over four long tables, filled to the brim with students dressed in robes of black. The tables were laid out with glistening golden plates and tall goblets and near the back of the hall was another long table, populated by older individuals.

Teachers.

She led the students onwards so that they came in a line in the middle of the hall between tables of yellow and blue, black and bronze. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. They were faced towards the teachers, towards a platform. A stool and a hat.

Elise quickly noticed the silvery figures of ghosts dotted between the tables, sat amongst the students, all eagerly watching and waiting for the Sorting to being. For food to finally be placed on the table. She averted her gaze from the many eyes and instead focused on the ceiling, a matching deep black decorated with twinkling stars and pale moon.

“Bewitched.”

Hermione spoke up quietly by her side. Hogwarts: A History. _Of course._ Elise smiled up towards the brunette who was deeply engrossed with the sky. It certainly didn’t feel like a celling. If not for the fact that the room was warm and she knew from the outside that the castle’s roof was far higher than this, she’d have assumed it was a skylight.

Or simply a hole in the roof.

The professor stepped up ahead of them, sitting at the far end of the table on a nearby cushioned chair and looked towards the stool as the hat opened up and began to sing, louder than the faint music in the background.

She heard the grumbled complaint of Ron as he vowed to get revenge on his brothers for setting him up, the faint sigh of relief from Hermione as she realised there was no practical test.

"When I call your name, sit on the stool, put on the hat and be sorted," Professor McGonagall said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A familiar pig-tailed blonde tumbled out of the group face flush with embarrassment and nerves, but a warm smile on her face as she turned back to the group, waved slightly and sat on the stool.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table to Elise’s right cheered loud and clear as the white embroidery on Hannah’s robe shifted to an equally cheerful yellow, the form of a badger poking out of the robe pocket before stilling and settling on her right breast pocket. The blonde winked at the group and moved to join the table, but as she sunk down into her chair she slumped her shoulders in relief, quickly patted by a handsome boy on her right-hand side.

“Bones, Susan!”

The familiar red-head had seemed to finally get settled on the ground, a confident smile flashing on her face as she winked at Hannah, the hat covering her eyes for a moment before another badger poked out of a pocket and the pair was reunited.

Boot, Terry was the first to join the table on her left, the Ravenclaws, greeted with an equal amount of cheer, though the eagle that settled on his right breast pocket had flown out of the fabric. Brocklehurst, Mandy joined him immediately after, the hat barely settling on her head.

The first Gryffindor was a brunette girl by the name of Brown, Lavender who she remembered had been gossiping earlier. A lion pounced out of her pocket before forming another crest. The table on the far left exploded in boisterous cheer, out-doing the other two Houses in volume. There was an entire group of red-heads on that table, all of whom she remembered from the train station barring the little girl and Ron. In fact, Fred and George were cat-calling Lavender as she walked towards the table, causing her to flush even more as McGonagall sent them a sharp glare to quiet down.

Bulstrode, Millicent, a clearly athletic and large girl who was probably a few inches taller than Hermione, marked the first of the Slytherin's a snake rising from her pocket as if willed to come out by a snake charmer. The table on the far right was as loud as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs although, they had more clapping than hollering.

She felt Hermione come closer to her.

“Friends no matter what house?”

“Of course,” Elise replied, tone tinged with mild indignation.

Hermione smiled, a small amount of worry draining away.

They watched quietly, clapping alongside the rest of the students when someone was sorted. Some didn’t take too long to get sorted, like Mandy, some took a little longer, like Seamus Finnegan who sat on the stool for a minute before being sorted into Gryffindor.

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione took one final glance over towards Elise, before stepping forward towards the stool and putting on the tall, weathered hat. There was a brief pause before it opened its lips.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Ron groaned audibly as Hermione waved at Elise and paced towards the table on the far left, sliding towards Lavender and the twins. _What if it doesn’t choose a house for me?_ The thought passed through her mind briefly before she dismissed it.

If she wasn’t meant to be here, she wouldn’t have gotten a letter. Or a wand. Or help from the headmistress.

She belonged here.

 _She’d make sure of it_.

More first years passed by, the group slowly dwindling as they were designated to their new houses. Neville ended up in Gryffindor, quickly sitting on the other side of Hermione as he took out the jar and showed her the toad. The lost toad, probably.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

The hat was placed on his head for two seconds before it shouted Slytherin, causing the loudest cheer from the table thus far. As he sat down between Crabbe and Goyle, the two boys he was sat with on the boat, an older student slid down to congratulate him.

Elise tensed slightly as they finally arrived at the Ps. _She belonged here._ _She was wanted_. Parkinson, Pansy went to Slytherin and then there were the identical girls.

Patil, Padma went to Ravenclaw.

Patil, Parvati went to Gryffindor and quickly re-joined Lavender Brown, the girls immediately returning back to their previous conversation.

Lastly, Patil, Priya went to Slytherin.

A girl named Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Gryffindor before finally her name was called.

“Potter, Elisabeth!”

“Potter, did she say?”

“ _The_ Betty Potter?”

The sudden barrage of whispers was quickly deafened with the fall of the Sorting Hat on to her head. The last thing she saw before her eyes were engulfed by the swath of fabric was a multitude of faces both animal and human turned to her with fierce curiosity.

“My, my, my. How interesting.”

Elise jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion in her mind, the small voice cool like silk against frayed nerves.

“You’re certainly a challenge, little Lady. A fearsome loyalty, though hard-earned, a keen mind, but a lack of thirst for knowledge. Nerves you have in spades, yet chivalry? The ambitions you have are small for _now_. At least they seem so in your mind…Interesting, indeed.”

The girl shifted nervously in her seat. _I just want to stay._ The thought fleeting but the Hat had a quick mind, honed over the aeons to catch all loose thoughts. All fleeting things.

“That’s certainly fair enough. Just answer me this, little Lady. Why do you want to stay?”

 _Grandpa’s hands, Hermione’s smile, the colours, the greys, the stars, the cold hands, cold hearts, green lights, bad dreams, her smile, his tears, her laugh, his cries_ , _the chocolate shared, his blood spilt-_

“That’s quite enough, little Warrior. I suppose you better be --SLYTHERIN!”

It felt like a pin could have dropped and the sound would carry for miles.

All eyes were on her, muttered words of surprise travelled down the tables and she sat awkwardly for a moment as Professor McGonagall looked down at her in surprise.

A faint clap broke the silence, a soft noise from the far left of the room quickly picked up by the loud and familiar hollering of the Weasley Twins. Hermione was there red-faced but clapping resolutely, a reassuring smile sent her way, the twins distracting most of the attention away from the tall first year.

The Slytherins, not to be out-done in congratulating one of their own by Gryffindors quickly rose to the challenge, letting out one of the loudest cheers of the night.

Elise took a seat beside Priya Patil as the Deputy Headmistress moved to continue with the rest of the sorting.

_She belonged here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to sneak this in before the week was done! I recently obtained a cat and several deadlines are coming up next week so I have been mightily distracted pretending deadlines don't exist and getting the cat used to the dog. Sorry if the chapter is a bit messy again!


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